Soujin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
psalm_onethirtyone) wrote2005-10-19 09:38 pm
psalm_onethirtyone) wrote2005-10-19 09:38 pm
"Do You Ask Why I'm Sighing, My Son? You Shall Inherit What Mankind Has Done..."
The exhaustion and lack of motivation have given way into vague depression. Honestly I do not even feel enough energy to hate myself.
Trying to clear up old projects. I put Miss Zara's and Miss Kylee's packages in the post, am getting together Lillie's, am writing Fish's letter, am putting together Miss Zara's other package, am wondering whose package I've forgotten, am setting after my notecards for Manon and Nanni.
Am wondering should I even bother to go on writing when it doesn't help.
But this is a bad day. Anything I say to-day should not be taken seriously, either by myself or anyone else. Flat unhappiness is always a wretched thing.
Made twenty-two spiders. Still have loads of paper left.
Christmas...
...Why Christmas? But I'm sick of the way Christmas goes. I've begun to find the exchange of useless things depressing. Last year, and last year for my birthday, I asked everyone to donate to charities in my name for Christmas and birthday gifts, but no-one did; and instead I have things I don't need, shall never use--I feel guilty about them. I wish they were useful things I could give to people who don't have things. I wish everything weren't so concerned with-- I wish I could give more.
But why Christmas, and why two weeks from Hallowe'en?
I'm tired. Sigh-shiver.
Trying to clear up old projects. I put Miss Zara's and Miss Kylee's packages in the post, am getting together Lillie's, am writing Fish's letter, am putting together Miss Zara's other package, am wondering whose package I've forgotten, am setting after my notecards for Manon and Nanni.
Am wondering should I even bother to go on writing when it doesn't help.
But this is a bad day. Anything I say to-day should not be taken seriously, either by myself or anyone else. Flat unhappiness is always a wretched thing.
Made twenty-two spiders. Still have loads of paper left.
Christmas...
...Why Christmas? But I'm sick of the way Christmas goes. I've begun to find the exchange of useless things depressing. Last year, and last year for my birthday, I asked everyone to donate to charities in my name for Christmas and birthday gifts, but no-one did; and instead I have things I don't need, shall never use--I feel guilty about them. I wish they were useful things I could give to people who don't have things. I wish everything weren't so concerned with-- I wish I could give more.
But why Christmas, and why two weeks from Hallowe'en?
I'm tired. Sigh-shiver.